


You are my....

by safelikespringtime



Category: Invaders (Marvel), Marvel 616
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Set in 1944, Winter Soldier: Winter Kills, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safelikespringtime/pseuds/safelikespringtime
Summary: Jim watches as Namor and Jackie, a regal pair if ever he’s seen one, move gracefully across the floor. He can see as they turn that the pair are smiling and talking quietly between each other as they dance, smoothly like the pull of a tide. The song continues and Jim’s gaze lingers on Namor and Jackie across the room, the way they move with ease with one another. Despite Namor having almost a foot on her in height, the pair move well together, and it’s clear by the way those who aren’t dancing watch on, that they agree.***Based on the beginning of Winter Soldier: Winter Kills, where Namor says part of the reason he's attending the festivities at Lord Falsworth's manor is because it amuses him to watch Jim squirm whenever he spends time with Lady Jacqueline.OR- the one where Jim has a massive crush on Namor and Namor knows.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Thomas "Toro" Raymond mentioned, Jim Hammond/Namor the Sub-Mariner
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	You are my....

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd...heavy dialogue.

“Nice tie, firebug. Doesn’t match your suit, though.”

Jim stiffens at Namor’s voice by his ear, not having heard him approach over the lively music of the function. Jim turns, a half-hearted scowl falling on his expression, ready to tell Namor off in front of all these people for sneaking up on him—instead, his mouth goes dry and his lips part and snap shut a few times as he takes in the prince.

“What, you turn into a guppy while I wasn’t looking?” Namor taunts, shooting Jim a sly wink as he begins adjusting the lapels of his suit.

Heat rises within Jim and he forces a few slow breaths in fear of _literally_ combusting right there in the middle of Lord Falsworth’s manor. He hadn’t expected for Namor to attend, it was rare he would occupy his time with earthly holiday functions, and yet here he is standing in front of him, dressed in a deep blue long coat with gold adorning the shoulders and waistline, it had to be some combination of fashions between the surface and sea, his hands still resting against Jim’s chest, thumbs smoothing over the coarse fabric of his jacket. And now the room, despite the previous chill that had previously resided alongside the crowd feels all too familiarly hot as Namor crowds his space.

“Jim, Namor, _you made it_ ,” Jim’s eyes dart up and Namor steps back as Lady Jacqueline seemingly glides across the floor towards them, dressed to the nines in a shiny red dress with lips to match that makes her look like a blonde Gene Tierney stepped straight off the set of Laura, and commands the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s so wonderful to see you here.”

“Lady Jacqueline you are truly the picture of beauty,” Namor’s words are smooth, falling from his lips with ease as he takes her hand and kisses it.

A rosy flush crawls up her cheeks and she slaps at his chest playfully, “ _Please_ , call me Jackie. We’re friends, aren’t we? You’ve seen me at my worst, some of the few people who could confirm I’m anything _but_ a lady.”

Jim just barely manages to greet her before he’s stepping backwards out of their space, feeling silly in his army provided brown suit and mismatched red tie that Toro had gifted him earlier that day with a quiet ‘Happy Christmas, Pappy’ (the first time Toro had used the name he’d wanted to resent it, he had known it was being said as a sarcastic afterthought of Toro’s teenage self, but now it left a warmth in his stomach at the thought of Toro considering him family, even if it usually was said in teasing). Of course he’s far from being the only person in the room dressed this way, but standing beside Namor in his deep blue suit that matched his eyes and Jackie who—as Namor had just state—was _the_ picture of beauty, he feels rather out of place and out of sorts.

“I hate to leave you, but I have to make the rounds—both of you be sure to save me a dance later on, you hear me?” she says after a minute of hushed conversation with Namor, and just like that she’s off across the room once more, leaving both men watching after her.

“What were you two whispering about?” Jim asks, holding off the bite from his words as he and Namor settle back into the background. He likes Spitfire, he _does_. But he can’t help the way his insides twist with envy every time she and Namor interact. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows the feelings he has are frowned upon entirely, but he has no control over them, they came as naturally as the flames that consumed him.

Namor doesn’t respond for a long minute and Jim watches as his eyes scan the decorations hung around the room, lingering on something far off in the distance before he finally turns his attention back to him, “You ever wonder why in here we’re ‘friends’ but out there I’m a ‘water logged dinner dish’?” And of _course_ his thoughts are still lingering on Lady Jacqueline, why would they not be?

“Maybe because in here she has to be civil, you water-logged dinner dish,” Jim takes the name, adding it to the list of playful insults he can throw at Namor whenever the time arises.

Namor’s only response is a smile and a light nudge to his shoulder as they stand and watch the party around them.

The night progresses, Christmas songs echoing throughout the manor as the guests are seated for a light meal and some champagne that Jim would never be able to afford to taste on his own—which is probably for the best because it’s really not that good, one of Lord Falsworth’s speeches, and the command for those staying late to indulge in some more dancing. Jim takes the hand of a young lady who had earlier introduced herself as Didi—and had later informed him was short for Geraldine—while Namor takes Jackie, and the four of them make their way onto the slowly crowding dance floor as the band begins to play a slowed down version of Jimmie Davis’ You Are My Sunshine. It’s not that Jim can’t dance; he knows how to. But if he had a choice, he’d rather not. Particularly when the singers words echo through the hall, calling out each of his inner-most thoughts.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine  
You make me happy when skies are grey…_

Jim watches as Namor and Jackie, a regal pair if ever he’s seen one, move gracefully across the floor. He can see as they turn that the pair are smiling and talking quietly between each other as they dance, smoothly like the pull of a tide. He can hear Didi asking him all sorts of questions about being ‘an army feller’ and somehow manages to respond to a few, though if anyone were to ask later that night, he wouldn’t be able to tell what had been discussed.

_You’ll never know dear, how much I love you  
Please don’t take my sunshine away  
I’ll always love you and make you happy,  
If you will only say the same.  
But if you leave me and love another,  
You’ll regret it all some day_

The song continues and Jim’s gaze lingers on Namor and Jackie across the room, the way they move with ease with one another. Despite Namor having almost a foot on her in height, the pair move well together, and it’s clear by the way those who aren’t dancing watch on, that they agree. He’s not sure how he makes it through the remainder of the dance without breaking down. He’s heard the tune only once before—on a radio somewhere, though he can’t remember where they were, just that Bucky and Toro had danced around to the tune like they weren’t all covered in bruises and crusted blood from the fight. The memory brings a small smile to his face and he manages to thank Didi for the dance before slipping out onto one of the many small balconies, tugging on the tie that suddenly felt all too tight around his neck. The London air is crisp, teasing the idea of snow, though a light rain had clearly just stopped, and was just the thing Jim needs to calm the array of nerves that flurry within the pit of his stomach. He manages to get the tie loose and one button undone, staring out from the manor across towards the city where no doubt Bucky and Toro, and hopefully Steve, would be attending a party of their own, something less flashy and hopefully they were slightly less miserable than he’s feeling.

“What’re you doing out here all alone, match-stick,” Namor’s voice breaks the somewhat silence that Jim had zoned himself into and he glances over his shoulder, forcing a smile for his friend to which Namor closes the door behind them and joins Jim at the edge. A huff of breath leaves his lips, creating a small cloud in the cool air, and he reaches up to begin fixing Jim’s collar and tie, shaking his head in amusement. “What have you done to yourself?”

Jim can feel the heat rising within him once more as Namor works skilled fingers at fixing his shirt. They’re only inches away, and Namor’s fingers still against his chest, clearly finished with redressing him. He could do it, if he just leans forward that little bit Namor is right there and he’s watching him with those intense stormy eyes and it takes his breath away that in another world in another time he could just dip forward and kiss him right here like this.

Namor makes a noise that comes from his throat and covers it with a cough and a laugh before pointing above where they stand to the mistletoe that hangs from the balcony roof, “Isn’t this a tradition of you surface folk?”

And Jim needs to step away quickly at that, his hands finding the cool stone behind him to try numb the heat that rises on his cheeks, the immediate disconnect from Namor’s hands on his chest helping with that too. With an awkward and so clearly forced cough, he gives a shrug, “Don’t know if you recall, but I’m not like most ‘surface folk’,” it’s a brush off from answering the question. He knows the tradition, and the idea of just pulling Namor in and kissing him like he’s wanted to do so many times before taunts lazily on his mind, but he can’t, they can’t. Instead he pushes off the stone and gives Namor a small smile, “I’m going to head back, I think. Getting a bit tired and had far too many conversations with strangers. Will you tell Jackie thank you, for me?”

“What makes you think I’m staying?” Namor asks lightly, knowing he’d struck a nerve bringing up the mistletoe, having said it solely with the hope that Jim would take the plunge. He loves Jim, and it’s clear to him that there are some reciprocated feelings from the Torch, but he also knows that Jim is a little bit pathetic when it comes to his own personal needs and wants for him to make this move for himself.

Jim doesn’t respond verbally, just makes his way back into the building with a silenced shrug, taking quick steps to avoid what remained of the crowd. Stepping out onto the cobbled street, he tucks his hands into his pockets and begins the walk back to where they were staying. It was nice sometimes to walk, of course it was easier to fly but walking, taking in the city and the people and the difference in the atmosphere here compared to back in America, it was nice sometimes to take a break.

“Torch!” Namor calls out, speeding to a jog to catch up with Jim, grumbling a little under his breath in the process, he hates running.

Jim scuffs the toe of his boot against a raised stone, turning his head as he waits for Namor to catch up before the pair fall into an easy pace beside one another. The temperature feels like it’s dropped a good ten degrees since they’d been stood on the balcony, and Jim casts a glance towards the manor, slowly shrinking in the distance behind them. The memory of he and Namor so close he had been able to feel each breath against his face, the warmth of his lingering touch on his chest, pointing out the mistletoe. It was like Namor _knew_ he was completely smitten for him.

_“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you,”_ Jim stills in his tracks as Namor mumbles the lyrics to the song, Namor continues a few steps before registering there is no longer Jim’s ever-present warmth beside him, and turns around, flashing him a grin, “Have we stopped for any particular reason, James?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever…” Jim hesitates, frowning at his feet, “Have you ever loved someone? I don’t know, back in Atlantis or someone you met up here.”

Namor twists himself around, returning to where Jim stands under the streetlamp, his head tilting a little, “Is this question because of that silly song they played at the party?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Jim shrugs, staring intently at a spot on his shoes.

“Jim, look at me,” Namor purses his lips, arms folding across his chest as Jim remains staring at his feet, “God, you’ve never looked more human than right now sulking, y’know that?”

Jim grumbles under his breath before looking to Namor, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, “I’m not sulking.”

“Yes and Toro isn’t in love with Bucky,” Namor rolls his eyes sarcastically.

“You know about that, huh?”

Namor smiles, grabbing at Jim’s arm, pulling him to continue walking, “Caught them sharing a kiss in the tent a few weeks ago. Toro said you knew.”

“I do, Steve doesn’t. Bucky’s not ready to tell him,” Jim breathes out, his shoulders sagging a little as they walk, trying to ignore the way Namor still has a gentle hold on his arm. “They make it look so easy, don’t they? The whole being in love thing.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it all,” Namor bumps their shoulders together, glancing at Jim out the corner of his eye, catching the way his gaze drops. “Are you okay, Jim? Been awful quiet tonight.”

“You and the Lady Jacqueline looked nice together tonight,” Jim deferred, “Best dressed couple on the dance floor.”

“Best dressed _couple_ , huh?” Namor hummed, looking at Jim with an amused grin, “C’mon now, Torch, Jackie’s nothing more than a friend, hardly that, a colleague, more likely,” he insists, “Besides, I had my eyes on someone else tonight.”

“Was it Didi? Because if you wanted to dance with her, I could’ve danced with Spitfire, though I’m not sure anyone else would’ve been pleased with the switch, you had everyone’s eyes on you tonight.”

“Yeah I noticed you staring,” Namor grins, slowing as they near the entrance to their building. “Not jealous, were you?”

Jim manages a laugh, resting his hand over Namor’s where it still holds his arm, turning to face him, “Of you, fish-face? _Never_.”

“Of the Lady Jacqueline?” Namor tries, meeting Jim’s gaze, challenging him, almost.

Jim steps back and releases his hold on Namor, reaching instead for the key to his room, tucked away inside his suit jacket, “Why would I…what reason would I have to envy her?” he asks, voice trembling a little as he takes a few steps towards the building, trying to pull away from Namor’s gaze as he follows him.

“Jim.”

There’s a strain in Namor’s voice, and Jim steps backwards again, teeth grinding as he finally pulls away from his friends gaze, _‘a colleague, more likely’_ , the words Namor had earlier used to describe Jackie ring in his head and he can’t help the way his stomach churns. Perhaps that’s all Namor sees him as too, just a colleague. Someone he sees because he has to for work. It wouldn’t surprise him, Jim thinks, they bicker enough that being friends could seem a stretch. He steps inside. He can hear Namor following him, quiet footsteps echoing the empty stairway, having forgone the elevator – “ _it’s called a lift in England,” Toro had informed him earlier that day_.

“Hammond,” Namor’s voice breaks the silence as they reach their floor, and Jim turns to look at him slowly. There’s a smile playing on his lips, that only makes the nerves in Jim’s stomach churn further. “Look up,” he says, and Jim does, catching sight of the mistletoe hung between where they stand, he knew Toro had put it up earlier “for an excuse to give Bucky a Christmas kiss”, but had forgotten it was there, distracted.

“I’m not one for Christmas,” Namor says slowly, looking at Jim with a steady gaze, and Jim can’t help but think how much his eyes shine in the dim light of the hall. “But I am one for tradition, so come here and kiss me because if you don’t then I’ll owe Toro and Bucky a dollar each and I don’t particularly want to see the smug looks on their faces.”

Jim gapes at him a moment, unable to move because surely his ears are playing tricks on him, because otherwise he definitely just heard Namor asking—no—telling him to kiss him. He stares a moment longer, before muttering a quiet ‘blast it all’, letting go of all inhibitions and crowding into Namor’s space, pulling him up to press their lips together. He can feel the smile on Namor’s lips as they kiss, messy and uncoordinated and far too short if he’s being perfectly honest, but then Namor is tugging him into their room and kissing him again, this time much slower, and Jim can’t help but sigh into it, all his fears from the day melting into the soft wetness of Namor’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to twitter user @ 616toro bc without you I (a) would never have read any Invaders comics, and (b) wouldn't have convinced myself to write this. I appreciate you always, pal <3


End file.
